


Heist

by 175



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Art Conservation, Because I can, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, Non-binary character, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, artist!seunghyun, artthief!jiyong, paintings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 13:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17081048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/175/pseuds/175
Summary: Jiyong keeps coming back, even though he doesn't have a reason to.





	1. Prologue

For some reason, he can't get the color right. By now he's tried everything, every single undertone and it still looks off. And of course the damn old lady at the conservatory needs it done by the end of the week and he has a thousand other pieces to work on. Which is more important; a renaissance piece or an old lady's collector piece? Really, it's obvious. But the old lady pays more, god knows how. 

 

Seunghyun remembers a time where it wasn't about the money, it still isn't. But money speaks, as they say, and rich people can get very loud, very fast, so he does what he needs to do. It’s been a while since he worked on something he felt passionate about, when did he even paint last? Do an original piece? For the last few weeks all he's had time to do has been; dust canvases, rip out old rusty nails, fill in gaps and drown himself in coffee. 

 

It's a shame, really, because he loves it so much. Loves the smell of varnish and old canvas mixed with the scent of his too expensive paints. And he loves getting paid for it. Being able to live off doing something he loves. Sometimes it does feel nicer to do restoring work. It's a routine; strip the canvas, get rid of the dust, get rid of old varnish and cleaning the canvas, re-painting, re-varnishing, re-upholstering the stretcher. He doesn't have to think about anything. 

 

_ Doesn't have to -- _

 

He really has to get back to the old lady's -- whatever. It has to be done by Friday and he has no time to waste.


	2. Carmine

There's incessant knocking on his door like that's something he needs when he's in the middle of a restoration. Who would even come to his studio unannounced? His mom? She should be in Japan right now. All he wishes for right now is to close his eyes and will the sound away. He takes a deep breath, and for a moment it stops. 

  


Not for long.

  


Seunghyun gets to his bare feet, pulls himself away from the worktable and drags himself towards the door. As he nears it, the knocking stops, as if the person on the other side knows he's approaching. He takes a big breath through his nose before unlocking, and pulling the door handle. The door gives a little squeak before swinging open, revealing a man on the other side.

  


A man, around his age, mischievous look on his face. The first thing Seunghyun notices is the bright red hair on top of his head, haphazardly styled to look messy. The next thing he notices is the man's jacket; black leather covered in sharp metal studs and scribbles of different colors in what looks like posca pen, and the big paper-covered canvas he's carrying.

  


“ ‘Sup, heard you were one of the best in the business.” The man says, practically throwing the canvas at him. Seunghyun manages to catch it in a free stumbling steps a couple, before it likely met its untimely end on his wooden floor.

  


“Uh…” Seunghyun starts. “I don’t really do private walk-ins. Or walk-ins at all, actually.”

  


The man scoffs, one corner of his mouth turning up in a charming smile. “Well, you see, didn't really have time to make an appointment. It's very important, I'm sure you'll agree.” 

  


He rests against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, looking annoyingly pleased with himself. 

  


The brown parchment covering the canvas feels waxy under his fingers, and the canvas feels heavier than it should by modern standards. Then again, he rarely has to do anything to modern pieces of work. Seunghyun walks over to his work table, gently laying the painting down and carefully unravelling the parchment. There's a swift moment of stillness before he realizes what's going on. He can't breathe.

  


“Is this a Monet?”

  


“Uh-huh.” The stranger confirms.

  


“What the fuck?” Seunghyun clutches his face e

in his hands, blankly staring down at the small ‘Claude Monet’ signature in the corner. 

  


“I'm glad you agree,” the man grins. “I need this done like, yesterday, so if you don't mind-”

  


Seunghyun’s fingers are tracing over a small tear in the paint, his movements light and apprehensive. “Oh no, baby, who did this to you?” he says. 

  


“So, are you gonna do it or what? Because if price is an issue I can assure you--”

  


“Baby ain't nobody gonna do this to you on my damn watch.” Seunghyun says to the canvas, cutting the man off. It seems like the varnish has cracked over time and turned an ugly yellowish-brown, typical of pre- 1900’s works. There's a lot of dirt, but not so much that it covers the beautiful image underneath. It's gonna take work, a lot of it. Probably several all-nighters. 

  


There's nothing he would love more in the entire world.

  


“You two need some time alone or…?” 

  


This all seems highly unlikely. Seunghyun must be dreaming -- no -- hallucinating. His mother keeps telling him to wear a mask when he's working. Of course, he never listens. 

  


How does a man his own age come across an authentic Monet? Why does the same man show up unannounced on an art restorer’s doorstep, demanding the restoration to be done immediately? Unless -- 

It's very illegal is what it is. But it's also a Monet.

Seunghyun weighs his options. 

  


  1. Agree to work on this painting for a probable _gangster_ \-- in turn getting to fulfill his lifelong dream of touching a real Monet, but also risking a lifelong prison sentence.
  2. Refusing to work on this painting for a probable gangster -- in turn getting his hands cut off and fed to the dumpster cats out back. 



  


It’s pretty clear which option is the most tempting.

  


“Whatever, I'll do it. I'll have it done by the end if the week blah blah payment et cetera. I don't really care who you are and frankly it's probably better if I don't. This feels very illegal, but, you brought me a Monet that looks pretty authentic and I'll never get this chance again in my life so… Let's settle for a win-win here.” 

  


“Well, then,” the man says. “Looking forward to seeing you again.”

  


The man leaves without much bravado, leaving behind a stunned Seunghyun just  _ staring _ at the painting. Really, where does he even begin? He's basically too afraid to even touch the damn thing. Seunghyun sighs, rubbing his face. This is probably one of those works he’ll have to send off to the lab  _ just to be sure _ , he doesn't want to be in the middle of cleaning the surface grime and accidentally scrub the paint off along with it. It should be easy enough to find out what kind of varnish Monet used but -- he wants to be really,  _ really  _ sure. The question is, how does he get it to the lab without them realizing it's a real Monet? He  _ could _ take a piece from it, like some sort of biopsy. Send, maybe, a flake of the varnish for testing without having to bring the whole canvas. That could work. 

  


Yeah, let's do that. 

  


This is going to take a lot of coffee, and eye drops. 

  


* * *

  


  


It's a Sunday afternoon when he returns next time. There's a quick knock on his door and before he's even had time to reach over and open it, the man walks in with a giant smile on his face, unlit cigarette behind his ear. 

  


“Honey, I'm home!” The man says, jumping up on his table effectively almost knocking over his newly-mixed cleansing balm. 

  


“Oh, it's you again.” Seunghyun blanches, probably less disappointed than he should be. Time has gone by too quickly, he got so lost in working on his dream painting that he forgot the time. Just like every other time, but this time he's not even sure when he showered last, or changed his clothes. His hands are stained with yellow and blue, he probably got some on the door handle. Everything in this building is stained by now. And he kind of smells, doesn't he? Like coffee, and stress.

  


“Is it done?” The man says, pointing to the Monet leaning against the wall, covered in it's newly lacquered frame. 

  


Oh no, the day is here.

  


Seunghyun grabs it and clutches it in his embrace. “You can't have it. It's my baby.” 

  


“It's your…. baby.”

  


“Yes, and you can't have it back.” Seunghyun counters defiantly.

  


“You-- But-- You know it's mine right?”

  


_ Technically _ .

  


“You can't have her.”

  


“ _ Her _ ?”

  


“Claudia.”

  


“Claudia?!”

  


“My firstborn daughter, crafted by my own hands.” Seunghyun says solemnly, looking down at his child. She's coated in a new reversible, UV-filtered varnish. The best he's ever made. 

  


“You do realise I paid you millions to basically slap some paint on this.”

  


“ _ Slap some paint on it _ \-- Take that back, you heathen!” Seunghyun shouts, hugging the frame closer. The  _ nerve _ \--

  


The man is stunned into silence, deep brown eyes comically wide, his messily-rolled cigarette falls to the floor with a quiet  _ thunk _ .

  


Seunghyun clears his throat. “Excuse me. I'm very passionate.”

  


“Clearly.” 

  


Seunghyun sighs. “I really don't want to give it back, I'm attached to it now.”

The man jumps off the table, boots landing with a heavy thud. Flicks the bangs out of his eyes gracefully. 

  


“I guess next time I'll have to bring you something you can keep,” he winks. “Name's Jiyong, by the way.”

  


“Aren't you supposed to have like, a codename or something?” Seunghyun cocks a brow. This is just starting to feel like a bad drama by now. Do gangsters even have code names? He saw it in a movie once. Are they even called gangsters?

  


“How do you know that's not my codename?”

  


Yeah how does he know? This guy could be the most dangerous person in Korea -- but somehow he doesn't feel like he is. It's just a feeling.

  


“Just a feeling.” Seunghyun finishes. 

  


The man --  _ Jiyong _ \-- reaches for the painting, Seunghyun reluctantly hands it over to him, has to hold him back from tearing up. Can't help but admire the way the lacquer glistens under his studio lights. Wonders if this is what it feels like to peak at twenty eight. Truth is, he'll probably never see anything like this again. Jobs like this doesn't come to just anyone, it's usually the big museums that get the quote unquote ‘important’ pieces to restore. 

  


And Jiyong, apparently. 

  


Seunghyun tries not to think about that.


End file.
